


Breathing

by jazzrose343



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, overdose mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 19:38:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6920299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzrose343/pseuds/jazzrose343
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sort of Character Study from Jack's POV.</p><p>How Jack sees and  feels things.</p><p>From Draft to Graduation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HalfFizzbin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalfFizzbin/gifts).



> This is written about Jack's thought process and how the difficulties with Anxiety affect him.  
> This is also about how Eric Bittle makes him feel. 
> 
> Based partly on my own experiences. Unbeta'd but something I just needed to get out there.
> 
> Dedicated HalfFizzbin for introducing me to Check!Please.
> 
> Thank you to Ngozi for creating those boys
> 
> This is the first thing I have written in 7 years.
> 
> Warnings for: Anxiety, Stress, Overdose mention. Non Linear Narrative.

Breathing.

For the longest time, Jack associated this action, this need with dark colours.

A vice like tightness that made it feel like the air couldn’t get in or out.

Hand shaking, too many pills. The air catching every time. Not enough . Be better.

Trying so hard to find ways to make that air go down. Thick blackness blocking his chest.

There’s no air going in at all. It's to hard.

He cannot bring himself to meet his parents eyes.

The doctors talk about control, counting, finding ways to loosen the vice. Make things brighter.

It helps but it doesn’t make it stop.

A break they say. A chance to heal, to let the air flow. A way back in.

 

At first he lays in bed and stares at the poster.

Thinks how Kent hasn’t called, the looks and whispers as he passes people in the halls.

He has to count. “ _Manman Je suis désolé”_

Black air swirls all the time. Waiting.

But there’s still hockey and it gives him a rhythm. Let’s the air go down.

There are friends. More than just teammates.

Something he didn’t think about of plan for.

But they help and they make it easier when he can’t control the shaking.

Laying naked in his bed.

Chirping.

Mutual hatred of Lax bros.

Little swirls of red and green and purple that sometimes keep the black at bay.

It eases the tightness but the grip is still there.

 

_“ Not enough.“_

_“ How did you miss.”_

_“You’ll never make the draft playing like that.”_

Jack gets through, he works, he plays and he tries to keep breathing.

 

Then he comes along. He makes the air feel different. Yellow.

Jack’s chest still feels tight but it’s not the same.

He’s fast on the ice, but the fear of checking could damage the team. He needs to get better.

Jack does what he can. He works. He needs the team to be good, needs them to win. The blackness threatens. He has to do better.

Jack practices with him. They get better and it works. The yellow flows in and around them . Jack has not felt this way in a long time.

He quiets the voice in the back of Jack’s head just for a while. Jack can’t quite understand because he uses so much air. Yellow swirls in the red, green and purple.

But sometimes the fear, those voices it’s too much. The black closes in. His father’s hand on his shoulder.

 _“It was a lucky shot Bittle_ ”

 

Somehow he still creeps in under the voices and makes a little space for himself.

That yellow gets through for moments at a time.

The goals keep coming, making the playoffs. The yellow is so warm sometimes.

_“I’ve got your back Bittle.”_

Then he goes down and and for a moment tightness grips so hard in a way it never has. The air is blue almost bruised.

_“Bitty”_

 

Jack can’t take the loss, they were so close. His nails dig into his skin and he just can’t stop his thoughts and turns away. All there is is black.

_" You’ll never be good enough”_

Jack realises later when the when he can get some air down. It is not just about him. It is about them.

He speaks to his team. The friends he has made. To the people that made his game better.

It’s red and purple and green, yellow.

 

After the summer. He’s everywhere.

The air even tastes different , It’s smells of apple and butter. It has so much yellow that Jack feels almost blinded.

He can breathe..

 

Time is rushing so fast sometimes, the voices in Jack’s head are a blur. His pulse racing, his throat so tight. The black keeps building.

Breathe, count, breathe. Forcing the air down.

This will be gone soon. The safety his team has given him. He has to choose. Decide his future.

But the yellow air seeps in and makes things slow, makes it easier.

Jack can chirp, laugh with him. It feels good when he is close.

He signs, his future set. Jack can’t shake the thought that there’s something else he needs to do.

Graduation, then he is leaving. It sits so heavy. Something’s not right.

 

_“Go really say Goodbye."_

 

Jack runs so hard it hurts to breathe.

_“It’s too late, you lost your chance.”_

“Bittle”

“Bitty”

There he is.

That yellow golden air fills him and surrounds him, just for a few moments. He lets it seep in and stay.

He has to leave. But this time the air leaves with him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for sticking with it if you got this far


End file.
